


Drumstick

by Marasa



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Cuddling, Depression, Eventual Smut, Feeding, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Original Characters - Freeform, Recovery, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampires, josh dun - Freeform, suicide attempt (mentioned), tyler joseph - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:04:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Josh is sick.Josh does not want to be sick.The rope waiting for him at home will make Josh not sick.Josh wants a drumstick before he does it.





	1. Chapter 1

He wants a drumstick before he does it. 

Those shitty ice cream cones that come in thin plastic wrappers and sit at the bottom of gas station coolers for years. Josh's only seen old people eat them. Other kids would get the ones shaped like cartoon characters or superheroes and he would get a drumstick, pre-scooped paradise dipped in chocolate and covered in nut crumbs. “Why don’t you get one shaped like Wolverine?” his friend’s parents would ask. They never asked about the bruises on his arms or his quiet demeanor; they only asked about his ice cream preferences. 

“I like drumsticks,” he would say and that would be that, although there would always be slight muttering and whispering between husband and wife of little boys who didn’t know what a wedding ring could do to young skin when propelled at a fast speed.

Josh didn’t bother with shoes before he left the trailer park in search of the frozen treat that hasn’t touched his lips in over ten years. He thinks that about ten years ago was when he had started getting sad. He doesn’t know what it was exactly, thinks it’s everything and nothing all at once. It was all the shitty things happening suddenly in his life that made everything run dark but then it had always been in him, like a troublesome blood vessel deep in his brain that had blown his skull to pieces. 

Josh tried to sleep it off like this depressive disorder was the common cold but the sadness was a disease that only spread in his blood and made him sicker. Depression wasn’t a virus as previously thought; it was a bacteria that reproduced and mutated and grew until all of his body was decaying and making him sicker. Josh is sick. Josh does not want to be sick. The rope waiting for him at home will make Josh not sick. Josh wants a drumstick before he does it. 

A bell hanging off the door like a pair of testicles chirps as he walks into the Stop-N-Go at two in the morning. Hood up, he doesn’t make eye contact with the clerk who’s staring at him like he’s a criminal. Josh has money. He’s going to pay. Why does he feel like he’s a bad person anyway? Josh hunches his head down lower and feels a lump in his throat as he makes his way to the back where the ice cream coolers are.

His bare feet slap against the tile in a damp thud of nervous sweat, tiny grains of dust and dirt collecting in between his toes. Then he sees it. It's like fixed broken doors and ice on welts, everything’s okay for that brief moment. The cooler pushed up against the wall is faded and leaking. 

Josh’s toes wade in a thin film of lukewarm water as he finally throws open the sliding glass and begins digging in. He doesn’t know if they even have any drumsticks, but he has hope for once in his life that there are some at the very bottom, past the layer of cardboard that is there to suck up any liquid that may escape tight plastic seals. Fruit pops, orange and cream swirl and popsicles; Josh digs deeper in search of his last supper. 

Wrappers crinkle underneath the rough shove of his hand and then a voice is speaking behind him almost as pretty as wrinkling plastic in a fridge. The voice that makes Josh’s body go limp is one that doesn’t sound like it belongs to the man standing behind the counter at the front of the store. It’s cold yet gentle, like frozen chocolate wrapped around an ice cream cone, maybe even dipped in peanuts. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”

Josh turns slowly, peeking from behind his hood at a guy who looks a little younger than him. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't; point is, he looks better than Josh. There are no bags under his eyes or red around his irises. This guy has a fluff of soft hair sticking up in chunks like he's been pulling at it and pale skin and brown eyes. He's soft and alluring yet still manages to emit an aura that says he could kick Josh’s ass. He’s such a pretty thing Josh thinks the universe plays cruel tricks, bombarding someone with beauty the day they plan to leave it all behind and if they do find solace in that heavenly beauty and end up staying alive, the universe laughs when it takes away hardcore beauty and presents poverty and tobacco smoke once again.

Josh shifts his gaze from the pretty stranger to his own feet, double checking even though he knows the answer. Looking down, he finds overgrown toenails and dirty skin under the edge of his frayed pant legs. “Yes,” Josh says with his hand still in the freezer. 

“This place is a mess,” the guy says with a grimace, “your feet are gonna get all dirty.” Josh stares. 

“They were dirty before I got here,” comes Josh’s whispered response. The guy laughs and it’s beautiful, Josh thinks. The clerk at the front peers down the aisle to them but they don’t acknowledge him.

“So,” the stranger says, “I was gonna buy a pack of smokes, but I’m kinda short.” He places a hand in his pocket and leaves it there, not proving that he is in fact short in funds. There’s a pause and then Josh is retracting his hand from the cooler and sliding closed the door. Josh follows him to the front and the stranger's pointing to a pack of cigarettes Josh has never heard of before. The box is black and has a horrendous picture of a deformed fetus on the back of it with a warning that expectant mothers should not partake in America’s pastime. Josh didn’t know either party still did that. Seven dollars gone and the stranger nods his head for Josh to follow him outside. Josh does.

They’re sitting on the curb far from the gas pumps, the red neon lights of the gas station's name somehow shining bright enough to cover them in a hue of red. Long strips of glowing light lick at the stranger's shoes, at Josh's bare feet. 

“Want one?” the stranger asks and Josh shakes his head. “Don’t smoke?” he asks. Josh looks forward to the empty street where no life seems to be present. There hasn’t been a car to come down here his entire walk or even now not even one cat to waltz by. It's dead. Even the grass is dead. Josh wants to be dead. 

“I wanted ice cream,” he says. The stranger follows his gaze and nods, taking another long drag and holding it deep in his chest before he’s extending the cigarette to the mohawked man despite the lack of an answer. Josh takes between his fingers and takes a drag. It hits hard; a fist of tobacco that could pummel a fetus asleep in his stomach.

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” the other man asks as he takes back the cigarette. Josh feels tired all of a sudden but he knows it doesn’t make sense because he’s been asleep all day. He only sleeps all day every day. 

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Josh says. The stranger gives a light chuckle that resounds like the bells on a gas station door. Josh slips his eyes closed and sinks into the sound. 

“It doesn’t,” the stranger assures. "I'm Tyler," the man says, "I'm Tyler and I think it's fine to not wear shoes." Beautiful boy says it's okay to not wear shoes. "I'm Josh," Josh says, "and that's nice to know."

Josh smiles despite the fact he’s toeing on the edge of the nothingness he's ready to fall into. There’s silence between them as the stranger smokes his cigarette down almost to the filter while Josh thinks obscenely about the void and the ecstasy it'll bring his restless mind.

“I’m gonna kill myself tonight,” Josh whispers. He can’t help but tense after he’s admitted it, expecting to hear a painful gasp from beside him or sneakers walking away, at the very least a voice telling him to ‘fuck off, weirdo.’ But there’s nothing but silence and billows of smoke that smell like a serious cancer diagnosis. 

“How are you gonna do it?” Tyler asks. It’s not accusatory or mean or upset. Tyler doesn't radiate ill will like everyone else Josh surrounds himself with. Josh thinks that's one of the reasons why he got so sad.

Josh swallows. “I was planning on hanging myself,” he says. “I don’t have an actual rope but I still have some Christmas lights in my garage. That's enough like a rope. I was planning to just do it in there. From the rafters.” It's unclear if Tyler’s taking in what's being said as he looks motionless at the space in front of them. 

“What if the rafter breaks?” Tyler asks. The thought had crossed Josh’s mind but he can’t find the energy to get up in the morning, never mind the energy to come up with a solution. 

“I’m kinda hoping it doesn’t,” Josh says. 

“You’re a thin guy,” Tyler says as he gives the yellow haired man a look over, “if it does collapse, it won't be because of you, it'll be the shitty construction.” 

Josh nods with a sigh. “I guess.”

“I’m not going to ask why,” Tyler says, “because that’s a big question, isn’t it?” Josh nods. He doesn’t know where to begin. "That's okay," Tyler says, "that's perfectly fine."

Tyler places an arm around Josh’s broader shoulders and lets it rest there. There's no warning, no rush, no awkwardness. The action isn’t unwelcome. 

Josh’s eyes drift half closed and he's thinking about how he needs this tiny touch and the comfort that comes with it. The stranger’s fingers curl and toy with his shirt sleeve a little, teasing with fingers that border on caressing. Josh gives a stuttered breath heavy with unshed tears at the tragedy that surrounds him and infects his brain. There's beauty in the touch Tyler’s giving; Josh feels human for the first time in a long time and the burning on his waterline increases with every beautiful twitch of Tyler’s fingers. 

The grip around his shoulders gets tighter until Tyler’s pressed against his side, smoke exhaled against Josh’s profile. The white smoke creeps across his lips and up into his nostrils, burning the surfaces of his unblinking eyes when it gets there. Josh is still lost in the stillness across the street. Tyler's head is laying on Josh's shoulder now and Josh doesn’t move to acknowledge the other man's sweet action. 

The cigarette is extinguished on the curb and suddenly Tyler's face is resting in the crook of Josh's neck. Tyler stops when Josh goes rigid and Josh wonders what the chances are that the other man is aroused by this talk of death. Maybe he wanted to give Josh his final lay before he was hanging lifeless in the garage. Josh doesn’t think he’d be able to get it up.

Warm breath heavy with tobacco fans across the side of Josh's neck and he swallows. Josh doesn’t know what this is. Then Tyler's lips are resting against his pulse and he doesn’t tell him to stop. Lips drag as they part over the heartbeat evident on the side of his neck and then teeth are lightly scraping. Josh doesn’t feel hot. Josh thinks this might be too much. This doesn’t feel right. 

“This doesn’t feel right,” Josh says and he begins to try to wiggle out of Tyler's arm but the man with tobacco on his breath is gripping Josh much harder and holding him still. “Ow,” Josh whimpers when Tyler's fingers dig into his skin. Then there’s excruciating pain erupting on his neck. Josh opens his mouth but no sound escapes him and there are tears for the first time in years running down his cheeks.

The pain is enough for his vision to drop in and out and then everything’s turning black, no dreams of Christmas lights or drumsticks here. Josh's mind is quiet for the first time in a while.


	2. Chapter 2

Josh is sick.

Well. A different kind of sick than what he had when he walked barefoot that night. This illness he's suffering from now isn't a strain of mutant bacteria known as, “Depression,” centralized in the pit of his brain. This is more physical. Much more physical. 

Josh’s body is pushing sweat almost violently from his pores until his clothes are damp and sticking to him. It’s suffocating. Invisible hands wedge themselves into the top of his skull and pull outwards so his head feels like it’s being split open. This is more than a migraine. It's immobilizing agony. His bones are sore and his joints are stiff and he wants this to be over. Everything hurts. 

Josh is conscious. Barely. It's dark when he doesn't have the energy to open his eyes. He almost doesn't want to risk any potential light making it to his pupils because he’s almost certain one ray of wayward light will detonate the bomb in his brain and he’ll be done for. Unable and unwilling to see, Josh can tell head is on someone’s lap. 

There's warmth permeating through the denim under his cheek and an inconsistent softness of skin stretched along knobby bone. The rough material he’s resting on doesn't smell washed and Josh swears he can feel the crust of some kind of dried sauce scratching against the skin of his ear. At least he hopes it’s sauce.

It’s dark but Josh knows these surroundings are unfamiliar. The mattress under his body is too stiff and uncomfortable and it doesn't smell like his room. It smells like stale cigarette smoke. Josh isn’t sure how he got here and anxiety inches into his already splitting head and he's about to panic. But then there’s that voice again and fingers massaging his scalp and tugging at the knots in his hair, saying, “You’re okay. You’re okay, Josh,” and Josh cries.

Josh used to cry. He used to be prone to a good cry brought on by any troublesome, usually physical, altercation with fifth grade bullies or his father. Hope to God it wasn't his father. That was more than a cry. That would be deep heaving that he could swear his soul was going to leave through his mouth. He used to cry so often, they would call him crybaby. Crybaby, crybaby- Josh used to cry.

These past ten years, though, Josh has found that he's too numb to cry. He would try to will himself to cry when he knew he should, try to start it by frowning and poking out his bottom lip. Josh would wrinkle his chin and squint his eyes, trying to will himself to just lose it and be normal when he should- cry. It never worked. But this time is different. This is coming easy.

There are long fingers in his hair and it’s so easy to just give it all up to the emotion that's been stunted and trapped for the past ten years. Josh is sobbing. “Shh,” the voice comes again and Josh relates the sound to Tyler. Tyler. Tyler? Oh yeah, that guy he met at the gas station. 

Tyler was the one who smoked good and bit hard. That was the night Josh was looking for ice cream. That was the night Josh was going to kill himself. But that was a long time ago. He just knows it. At the core of his bruised bones, Josh knows it’s been more than one day. He can't pinpoint why, it's just simple instinct that he knows that it's been much too long. He doesn't open his eyes just yet.

Fingers are picking at knots where bleach-damaged hair is tangled together tightly. Each tug is excruciating as each strand of hair pulls at his sore scalp until he feels like he’s bleeding. Josh wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t manage with a throat that feels raw. All he can muster is a whimper. Tyler’s fingers stop and another, “Shh,” is leaving his lips. 

The light touch of fingers trail along the shell of Josh’s ear so, so gently and Josh wants to cry for a whole different reason. The cold of his ear and the cold of Tyler’s fingers are one in the same and Josh can barely feel his administrations. Josh is cold; he feels so numb. This is a different kind of numb. This is much more physical.

Down the tips of cold fingers go, past the large hole in his lobe and under his ear till they’re trailing along the stretch of his neck with a lazy drag of fingernails. This one hurts the worst. Tyler’s fingernails are razor blades on what feels like an open wound on his neck. There’s flesh shredding underneath the lightest touch of his fingers, Josh just knows. Fingernails barely scratch but it’s enough to summon flames of white hot pain under his skin and then Tyler’s saying, “I did that.” He says it like he’s in awe. Tyler can’t get over whatever it is Josh can’t see. 

“I did that, Josh, I actually did that,” and Tyler pushes firmly against the sensitive spot of pain that sits along Josh’s neck. Josh nearly screams at the torture it elicits but he's much too tired to even move. His mind blanks at the feeling and his body goes stiff. This might be sleep paralysis. Josh wonders maybe he had made it home. Maybe this is what it's like to have the last of one’s oxygen dribble out of their head when they're hanging from the rafters. This is the dream before death where things hurt but there's comforting fingers caressing damp skin. “I've never done that before. And honestly, I don't think I did half bad.” Josh can hear Tyler’s smile.

Josh still doesn't know what's happening, but he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't like it. He's slipping in confusion and exhaustion like he’s seventeen pills deep in a prescription of oxycodone. This is stumbling thoughts and haze of sweat Josh can taste on his chapped lips. Darkness and intestines twisting in a nauseating coil until he's sure he's going to puke. This is a nightmare. 

There's suddenly a whiff of cigarette smoke and finally Josh peeks his eyes open so he can see a fetus mangled with cancer on a cigarette carton laying on the bed in front of him, WARNING in large red text above it. The other words decorating the cigarette box are not even in English; it looks Polish, Swedish, hieroglyphics. Mysterious boy smokes something other than English. 

Josh is confused and his neck hurts and his head hurts and there cigarette smoke now making everything stuffy.

Josh cries.


	3. Chapter 3

Consciousness is hard. Josh soon realizes this as he blinks awake with the energy he’s lacked for however long it's been. He’s more ‘here.’ At least he’s trying to be. 

Josh finds that he’s currently sitting up at the edge of the bed, albeit a little poorly. He feels like he might fall forward or back at any moment. There's no carpet under Josh’s feet, rather the bottom half of his legs are tangled in the pant legs of the pair of pants currently pooled at his feet. Josh actually remembers having shed the article of clothing sometime ago. He had been getting increasingly hot and uncomfortable until he was crying from the heat he felt was cooking him. Crybaby. Then he had gotten cold, a good kind of cold, like a fever breaking. Being under the sheets was much more comfortable in boxers alone, although he can't remember taking off his own pants or getting under the covers.

Finally focusing his eyes well enough in the unnatural darkness of the room, Josh sees a mass of dark hair in front of him, close enough that the soft strands tickle his face with a bristle-like texture. Josh looks down at Tyler who is bent over him and jostling his legs as he tries his best to pull Josh’s pants back up.

“Fuck,” Tyler breathes heavy, “c’mon, help me out!” Josh is still half asleep but with every frustrated movement Tyler makes against him, Josh can feel that his body is different. It feels like he's in a suit of flesh and bone that isn't his. Everything’s heavy and cold. This is a bad kind of cold. “Josh, we need to get your pants on, so,” Tyler is straining, “help me the fuck out!”

At that, Josh gives a grunt and Tyler whips his head up immediately. Tyler wasn't expecting that. Josh isn't expecting Tyler’s expression.

Tyler looks….different. He's still the same guy Josh met at that gas station with fluffy hair and pale skin but there's something in his eyes that’s new. They're a darker shade of brown and his pupils are swelling on the larger side, enough to make Josh worry in this stupor he finds himself in.

“Druh…” Josh tries but his tongue is flopping around in his mouth, twenty pounds heavy with exhaustion.

“Huh?”

“Druhs….”

“Drugs?” Tyler laughs mirthlessly. Josh wants to flinch away from the sound. “No, you don't want drugs,” Tyler shakes his head with a bitter smirk, “you don't want drugs right now, Josh. I know what you want, and I'll get it for you, okay? I'm going to take care of you. Just trust me.”

Josh doesn't know what he wants. 

Josh doesn't know if he trusts Tyler.

“Druhs,” Josh slurs, “y-you….on….druhhs?”

Tyler stares at him.

“No,” Tyler says with a pissy tone, “I'm not on drugs, but you need to wake the fuck up.”

There's urgency there, anger, anxiety, actual fear. Something might be happening. What's happening? Josh doesn't even know where he is. He kind of wants to go back to sleep. “No, no, no,” Josh can hear Tyler, “don't you dare go back to sleep.”

Tyler tugs at his jeans again.

“You've been sleeping,”

Tug,

“for four,”

Tug,

“days,”

Tug,

“so wake,”

Tug,

“up!”

One final, hefty pull and Josh’s pants are finally to his hips. Tyler buttons the button and zips his zipper for him, smoothing his hands over the denim for good measure. Josh forces his eyes open again and he's met with Tyler’s expression of desperation. Something's wrong. 

“Whass…” Josh stretches his sore jaw until it pops and then he's trying again, putting effort into the movement of his tongue that feels dry and swollen, “What's hap-pening?” Josh wants to say so much more, like ‘What's happening?’ and ‘Where am I’ and ‘What did you do to me?’

The rigidity in Tyler’s face disappears and Josh can see that same man he met that night in front of him now. Tyler is familiar. Everything is new and scary and strange but Tyler is familiar. Josh breathes out a faint whine. 

Tyler’s eyebrows tilt up and his lips pull downwards slightly. He's upset. Josh made him upset and Josh feels like even more like shit. But with a smooth and careful hand, Tyler reaches out and strokes Josh’s jaw with a faint touch with the backs of his fingers. Familiar. “We’ll talk, okay?” Tyler whispers. “Don't worry about anything right now. We’ll talk later, I promise. I promise.” 

Josh stares into Tyler’s full moon pupils. No drugs, Tyler had said. Josh isn't so sure. There's a reason for this behavior and like the way he can feel the time of day in his bones, Josh can feel that whatever this is isn't good.

“Let's get your shirt on,” Tyler says, fingers falling hesitantly from Josh’s jaw. Tyler’s tone is much more gentle this time, still whispering with barely a shift of his lips. 

“C’mon, arms up, so I can get your shirt on. You're okay, Josh. You're absolutely fine, okay?” Tyler sounds different. His voice sounds like Josh’s used to right before he would cry, back when he could cry. Josh doesn't want Tyler to cry. “You're okay, Josh.”

Josh is awake enough to lift his arms so Tyler can put on his shirt.

Josh is awake enough to pull his shirt down his torso.

Josh is awake enough to whisper to Tyler, “Please don't cry.”

And Tyler wipes his eyes before he thinks Josh can see.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm doing a bad job, aren't I? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I've never done this before and I honestly thought I had it. You were doing so good but it's been four fucking days. That's way too long to go without eating. I don't know how to do this. No one did this for me, but I can't, like, leave you. That would be fucked up. I'm trying, Josh. I'm really trying. I just need your help. ”

Josh is silent. He has no idea what Tyler is talking about but he's pretty sure Tyler is high. His pupils are still big.

The digital clock on the dashboard reads three a.m. and Josh has no idea why they're sitting in an abandoned parking lot of some decrepit strip mall he's never seen before. Engine off, they sit in the beaten hunk of metal that is Tyler’s car, looking out the windshield to the dark nothingness that blankets the lot of cracked pavement and growing weeds.

“What is going on?” Josh asks slowly. “I need to get home, Tyler. I don't….know what's happening.” Josh sees Tyler grip the steering wheel hard out of his periphery.

“Listen,” Tyler says, “we’re going to get out of the car and you are going to follow me. I want you to relax and just do as I say, okay?” Josh doesn't say anything. “Okay?” Tyler repeats, like he really needs this validation if he wants to feel okay too. Josh gives a short nod that he doesn't really mean.

“Alright,” Tyler sighs, “c’mon.”

They get out of the car, the slamming of their doors the only sound in the entire parking lot. The cool air feels good, and Josh breathes it in slowly, enjoying the freezing temperature that reaches the bottom of his lungs. The sensation is refreshing and...new. 

“Josh,” Tyler says with a snap of his fingers and Josh sees Tyler already a few feet from him, waiting for him to follow like he had agreed to. Tyler's getting impatient with Josh ogling of nothing. Tyler's in a hurry. Josh doesn't know why.

Josh follows and they slip through a narrow space between two of the stores and end up behind them where the loading docks are, nothing but old trash cans and shopping carts occupying the ragged space of concrete rubble. Tyler looks around them in a hurry, putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder before looking back at him. “Josh,” Tyler says carefully, “I want you to go sit right there,” he points to three concrete steps leading to a bolted door, “and just wait. Don't leave. Just wait there until I tell you to get up.” 

Don't leave. Josh is scared of what the order of ‘don't leave’ implies. He might feel compelled to leave at some point of whatever it is that's about to happen. The thought makes him even more nervous. Josh swallows roughly, sweat pushing through his palms but he shuffles over to the steps, sitting down and watching Tyler. 

Minutes pass without a word between them, Josh watching Tyler’s profile a few yards away and Tyler looking to his left and shuffling on his feet as if he's waiting for someone. Josh bites on his bottom lip. 

And apparently Tyler was waiting on someone because after another minute passes, a guy is walking around the corner of the strip mall and making his way to Tyler through the debris of decripit consumerism.

Josh can't see all that well but he can make out the man’s gruff face, weathered from what looks to be drug use and presumably homelessness. A hefty sweatshirt hangs from his torso and torn jeans billow in the breeze, three sizes too large. This doesn't feel right but Josh stays quiet, hands fisting in his lap as his anxiety grows.

Josh can barely make it out but he can hear the guy ask Tyler, "You Zack?" and Tyler nods his head; he is Zack. But Tyler is not Zack. Josh doesn't know who Zack is and Tyler is Tyler. This man does not know that.

“How much for a gram?” the guy with bad acne and a rough face cuts right to it, no time for being indirect. Josh perks up. Drugs. He fucking knew it, he called it, Tyler was on drugs and he had just dragged Josh here on a drug deal, Tyler must have been on drugs this entire t- 

Josh's mind stops. Everything stops. Everything except for Tyler pulling a switchblade from his pocket and shoving the blade into the guy’s neck. Over and over, the knife pierces the side of the man’s neck until he's gurgling and gasping for air. It's useless. He can't take a breath without breathing in nothing but blood into his lungs. The man is drowning. And then Tyler's victim is falling to the ground with a thud.

Josh is frozen. He needs to leave right now. He doesn't care if he told Tyler he wouldn't leave. This is a crime, this is murder, he just killed a guy-

“Josh.”

Josh stares wide eyed.

“C’mere.”

Tyler turns toward with a gentle look in his eyes and holds out his hand like Josh is a dog that might attack. It's careful, a beckoning gesture that says everything’s fine, never mind the knife he's holding in his hand currently.

Josh’s first instinct is to turn and run and scream until his voice is gone. He should call the police, maybe go home and find those Christmas lights and forget about this forever. But Josh isn't who he thought he was. Something’s changed in him since all those nights ago, that night he wore no shoes and had ice cream and death on his mind. Now none of those things matter right now. 

Josh finds he is no longer scared as he stands and steps toward Tyler. Josh isn't frightened at the body bleeding out on the pavement that he's standing above right now. Josh is dazed, not worried, as he drops to his knees once he's beside Tyler and stares at the nameless stranger's corpse. The man thought he was meeting a guy named, “Zack.” Tyler's victim thought he was going to get high. Josh finds himself captivated by the dark liquid inching across asphalt.

Tyler shifts on his feet beside him with dwindling patience and upon seeing Josh not making any move to get closer, Tyler too drops to his knees. It's still for a moment before Tyler takes a shaking finger and runs it across the gash in the man’s neck that is pouring blood. Index finger covered, Tyler brings it in front of Josh, millimeters away his lips. Josh's eyes almost cross as he tries to look at it and parts his lips involuntarily.

Josh can hear Tyler breathe beside him as he brings his finger even closer to Josh’s parted lips. The smell is of something beautiful; poured metal and thick honey and something else that he's never had the privelage of smelling. Josh drools pretty pearls of saliva. 

Tyler rests his bloody finger on Josh’s bottom lip and Josh feels like he's going to burn alive from the close proximity of the liquid. The heat from the smear of blood on the pad of Tyler’s finger is tangible against his chapped lips and Josh doesn't know who he is anymore. He doesn't think it really matters at this moment.

The very tip of Josh’s tongue pokes out to barely touch Tyler’s finger but as soon as the first atom of blood makes it to his tastebuds, Josh is gasping and sucking Tyler’s finger into his mouth with a desperate whine. The flavor deafens his mind and erases the thoughts that tell them something is wrong, something isn't right with this, this is gross and terrible. Josh wants more of that heavenly taste. He's hungry, and this liquid tastes better than food ever could.

Tyler drags the pad of his finger down Josh’s bottom lip as he takes his finger from Josh’s mouth. Josh wants to reach out and bring him closer again so he can lick at the drying liquid crusting under his fingernail but Tyler is placing a hand on his cheek and turning Josh’s face away from him and to the body in front of them. Josh’s fuzzy vision clears enough that he can see the pints of blood leaking out from the man much more clearly and he's falling on top of him as he burrows his face against the gash of the man’s neck and licks and sucks and slurps noisily. 

Josh is too lost in the sensation of fire in his mouth and how it's somehow managing to cool his insides to notice that there's a hand on his back rubbing in gentle circles. “You were so hungry, Joshie,” Josh barely hears, “I'm so sorry I made you wait so long.” And then the hand’s gone and Josh is delving his tongue deeper into the searing laceration in the dead man’s flesh.

Mouthful after mouthful, he swallows until his stomach is full and Josh is feeling high. This surpasses the feeling of any kind of drug he's ever partaken in, maybe even any drug on the face of the Earth. Josh is pretty sure he's transcending right now. But like any time he smokes marijuana, the blissful and complete high is tainted with panic.

Josh is becoming more aware as he sits back up and stops drinking from the man's still warm body. Josh is more alive than he has been in the past few days, in the past ten years. And in that clarity and new life he feels, overwhelming guilt is crashing into him and tears are welling into his eyes because there's a stranger's blood on his face and a dead body in front of him and he doesn't know why he did that. He’s disgusting, he's a murderer, a cannibal. What did he just do? What the fuck did he just do? Josh is a monster. Hot tears spill down his cheeks. 

“You're okay, you're okay,” Tyler is wiping the tears from his cheeks right above the mask covering his nose, mouth and chin. Tyler's administrations come as caresses of Josh’s heated skin and Josh is shaking, bottom lip trembling. Tyler is soft, attentive, caring. Josh needs Tyler right now.

“Messy,” Tyler chides softly as runs his finger down past Josh’s lips and to his chin. Blood gathers on the pad of his finger and Tyler’s sucking it into his mouth. Tyler combs Josh’s hair back from his sweaty forehead with slender fingers and the sensation is familiar, so familiar. “Messy boy,” Tyler smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. Tyler’s bloodied lips twitch with the sadness he's trying to hide and Josh feels alone. That high that had consumed him minutes previously was incredibly short lived and now he's forced to answer for what the fuck just happened. There are tears falling down his face and a fake smile and soothing fingers in his hair. Everything's so sad. Why does everything have to be so sad?

“T-Tyler,” Josh hiccups and there's a splash of blood at the back of his throat. It's indigestion, it's his own disgust with himself, it's tears that are making their way to his eyes to spill down his face.

“Shh, no, no, no, please,” Tyler pleads. Arms wrap around Josh and he's being pulled close with a gentle tug. The action is nurturing and protective, like Tyler is trying to use his body to build a wall around Josh. And this is what Josh needs, at least in this very moment where he's extremely sensitive and scared. Josh lays his head on Tyler's shoulder and fists his hand in the other man’s shirt. 

“I got you,” Tyler’s talking too quietly, it's almost as though he hasn't said anything. But Josh catches his words before they're gone in the wind. “I'm right here, Josh, I'm right here with you.”

Josh whimpers because Tyler is here with him. Tyler's mouth is suspiciously spattered with blood also and Josh thinks he must have been so out of it that he hadn't even noticed Tyler having his fill beside him. Tyler is a murderer. Tyler is a cannibal. Tyler is sick. Josh is just as sick.

“I'm right here with you, I'm right here with you,” Tyler keeps repeating. Tyler is right here with him. 

Josh feels alone anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

The yellow light in the McDonald's bathroom makes him feel sick. Nausea pulls at Josh’s stomach as Tyler wipes his face clean with a wet paper towel and a gentle touch. Tyler hasn't said a word since pulling him from the pavement and into the fast food joint. There's nothing to say. Not even the bored employees stuck with the night shift have anything to say about two bloody men that scamper past them and into the single bathroom. 

Multiple paper towels are wetted and wiped over his mouth and chin where Tyler holds him up against the wall in a secure push. It's the compression Josh needs when everything is buzzing around him. It's a tainted high of relaxation being eaten away by budding panic and Josh is tired by this constant battle of emotion within him. His eyes lull with the calming petting that Tyler is giving him despite his internal struggle. Josh really is an animal.

Tyler pauses his wiping of Josh’s face and when he doesn't start again after thirty seconds, Josh is opening his eyes again to see Tyler looking up at him with wonder in his face.

They stare at each other, so so close to each other, way closer than they realized and Tyler’s eyes are drooping a little in accordance with Josh's inability to keep his eyes open at the moment. There's a smile on Tyler's face that shows just enough teeth that Josh can see a bit of blood drying in the crevices between each of them.

Tyler takes his finger and brings it up to Josh's face so he can stroke Josh’s jaw with a faint touch. Josh's eyes threaten to close and Tyler smiles at the effect he has on the other. Josh has no idea what Tyler is doing but it's soft and relaxing and Josh just wants to sleep for four more days.

“You look so out of it,” Tyler giggles like he's high. They both feel a little like it. There's no more frustration or fear in his voice that was there for so long before. There's only admiration and humor, and Tyler is bumping their foreheads together and Josh’s eyes finally shut. They breathe into each other’s mouths while their foreheads are still pressed together and Josh can taste the iron on Tyler's breath. It's intoxicating. Tyler’s thumb strokes Josh’s right cheek where his hand rests on his jaw. “You're so blissed out, Josh.” Tyler sounds blissed too.

There's some kind of paradise in this exchange but reality is still nagging at Josh. He doesn't know Tyler; Tyler's a stranger that killed someone and led him to drink from said corpse. Tyler’s the one who kept him in his home for four days without explaining anything. Tyler’s thumb on his cheek feels amazing and Josh is leaning in a little closer into the man in front of him, bottom lip barely touching Tyler’s with how delicious he smells and Tyler is so blissed out and must have the same idea because he flicks the very tip of his tongue out of his mouth to taste the blood crusting the creases of Josh’s chapped lips. Josh doesn't know Tyler. Tyler is dangerous. This needs to stop.

“Tyler,” Josh whispers as he pulls back a little and Tyler flinches, actually flinches. Josh feels like shit. Fucking trash. Josh feels worthless. “Tyler, I need to,” Josh says, “I need to get home.” Tyler's thumb stops and he’s quiet for a moment.

“What's at home?”

“Huh?”

“At home. What’s waiting for you?”

Josh is silent.

“I mean, other than the Christmas lights you were gonna hang yourself with?” Tyler snaps. He drops his hand from Josh’s face and Josh feels like shit. He knows he’s a fuck up but Tyler rubbing it in isn't helping.

Tyler puts his hands over his face. “I'm sorry, Josh, I don't…mean that. I'm just stressed and,” Tyler sighs, “after we feed, we always get a little sensitive and weird and hormonal. I'm sorry.”

Josh waits in silence until Tyler decides to bring his hands down from his face. He still may not be looking at him, but once Josh can see him again, he’s asking something dire. “Tyler,” Josh says, “what is happening to me?”

Tyler looks ready to collapse.

There's still a bloody paper towel in Tyler's hand as he looks everywhere but Josh. Tyler keeps eyeing the door to the left of him, a clean getaway if something goes down. What Tyler silently implies scares Josh. Tyler is all about the unsaid, the mysterious, but this needs to be explained. Josh has the right to know.

“Tell me,” Josh says. He's a little louder, more authority in his voice. There's panic too. Why does Josh feel so strange? It's like he doesn't know whether to scream or cry. Maybe both would relieve the pressure that's welling up within him. Tyler makes a move on his heel toward the door, saying something about how he needs a smoke, but Josh is on him before he can run. 

Two hands twist in the front of Tyler’s shirt, and Josh is switching their places easily, now holding Tyler against the wall so he can snarl in his face. There's rage now. There wasn't rage before. There was numbness, sadness. This pumps hot in his chest and sits uncomfortably like a knot behind his ribcage. Josh is awake for once. 

“Talk,” Josh spits and Tyler is gasping. They're not so blissed out anymore. They're both scared, frustrated and they're fueling each other's insecurities. Josh’s fists get tighter in the fabric of Tyler’s shirt.

“D-Don't you even dare," Tyler whispers his warning. “You hit me and I'm screaming and they'll call police, Josh. Then what?”

“I tell them you killed someone!”

“SHHH!”

“Tell me what's happening, Tyler! Right. Now.”

Tyler opens his mouth once more but there's a knock at the bathroom door that makes them both freeze and look at each other with wide eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

They don't answer.

“You need to leave,” a managerial voice says and Tyler is turning to leave, already slipping out of Josh’s grip now that he’s taken off guard.

“Tyler!”

“Shut. Up,” Tyler snarls and Josh is shutting up. Tyler is scary. Josh saw Tyler kill a guy.

“Listen to me, Joshua,” Tyler says. “We’ll talk. I'll tell you what the hell is going on. But first, we need to get out of this bathroom without any physical violence, and that's all you. You're gonna control yourself and we’re gonna get an ice cream cone and we’re gonna get back in the car and go back to my house so we can talk. Agreed?”

Josh doesn't want to agree. Tyler's done something to Josh that isn't good. He's made him an accomplice without wanting to be and brought him into all his other shit. Josh kind of wants to punch Tyler in the face here and tell him to fuck off. 

So he does.

Josh’s fist rockets into Tyler’s nose and Tyler’s screaming and clawing at him, blood beginning to barely run from his nose. At the commotion, someone is unlocking the door with a key but the two hitting and scratching each other are too distracted to fully gauge when exactly the manager of the establishment is barreling into the room screaming at them to get out. 

Tyler ducks as soon as the door is open and runs outside and out the glass doors to the parking lot where his car is still sitting. Josh is sprinting after him and Tyler fumbles with the car door handle once he gets to it, sweaty hands slipping on the smooth metal. His attempts to get away are in vain ultimately because with his back to the pissed off man, it's hard to fight when Josh is grabbing him by the shirt collar and whipping him around so he's held up against the car.

“JOSH STOP!” Tyler yells with real fear in his eyes and Josh feels sick. He doesn't want to see Tyler like this. Josh doesn't want to be this way. He wants to be normal. And like that, another wave of emotion hits him, one that makes him soberbup and reconsider everything. It takes a few seconds for this shift to happen and to drop his hands from Tyler so he can take a small step back.

“I don't want this, Tyler,” Josh whispers in a broken voice. “Whatever's happened to me, I don't want to be like this. I'm fucking...scared.”

Tyler wipes his nose with his shirt. 

“We'll talk,” Tyler whispers, “we’ll talk, okay? Right now, as soon as we get home. We’ll talk and figure this out.”

“I'm sorry for punching you,” Josh says and on instinct, he reaches out and wipes his thumb across the faint trail of blood and brings it to his mouth so he's sucking his thumb. Tyler smirks.

“Nah,” he says, “I've been an asshole. And after your first feeding, everything's a little haywire, trust me. Your emotions are probably crazy right now, huh?”

Josh nods because there's suddenly a lump in his throat. He's getting tired. Tyler sighs. “Let's get in the car, so we can talk.” And they get in the car and Tyler starts the car without another word.

“I'm sorry,” Tyler says.

“...for what?” Josh is tired, unamused, sad, angry- the emotions are pummeling his head like a thousand fists against his skull. It's disorienting. Everything is a little haywire.

Tyler doesn't address what he's sorry for but the apology works for Josh.

“I'm sorry, Tyler,” Josh says.

“For what?” Tyler sounds genuine, like he can't fathom what Josh has done wrong. It's sad. 

“I’m sorry.” And it sounds more than the punch and it's more than his frustration. There's something else there, an apology for being an animal who drinks blood.

“Just relax, Josh,” Tyler says from behind the steering wheel. There's a hand on his thigh and that caressing thumb stroking back and forth in a lulling gesture that brings on plenty of warm emotions. Josh doesn't look from where he's leaning against the window and he reaches out and holds Tyler’s hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 hits?! Wow. Thank you so much! Here's another chapter to celebrate. Hope you enjoy :)

They park in front of Tyler’s house, a one story, shabby little place with dead grass and a rough exterior. Tyler takes back his hand from Josh's and Josh gives a guttural noise in surprise and the emptiness the action brings. He suddenly feels clingy, needing warmth and protection now that he's full and riding the buzz of a high that is not natural. Tyler must know this because when they get out of the car, Tyler makes his way to Josh’s side and grabs his hand again and leads him to the front door. Josh nearly sighs in relief.

“It's your first feeding, so you're gonna be all over the place emotionally,” Tyler says as they walk in, “and really touchy, so just tell me if you need anything. I'm here to help you, Josh." 

Josh can feel a twist of something warm in the pit of his stomach, but he still doesn't understand what Tyler is talking about. He thinks he has an idea. Shit like that isn't real but taste of blood still in his mouth tastes really fucking real.

With Josh’s hand still in his, Tyler gently pulls Josh to the kitchen and fills up a glass of water single handedly before holding it in front of Josh’s lips.

“Drink,” Tyler says. Josh doesn't open his mouth.

“M-My...stomach hurts,” Josh says, “a little bit.” The last thing he wants is to drink a cup of water and have it offset his already full stomach. Tyler raises an eyebrow.

“Ate too fast, baby,” Tyler chides but brings the water down. Josh gives a short whine at the nickname, a wave of heat making its way to his face. He shouldn't feel this way, especially not toward a stranger who killed someone earlier in the night. Josh doesn't know exactly what he's feeling. “Come on, I know what will make you feel better.”

Josh is about to open his mouth to protest but Tyler’s already leading him to the bedroom down the hall and shutting the door behind them for privacy although no one else is in this house to interrupt them. The added privacy eases something primal within Josh and he appreciates Tyler's ability to comfort him when he needs it.

Tyler sits down on the bed with his back against the headboard, breaking his hand from Josh’s. “Lay down,” Tyler says, “with your back against me.” Josh does so clumsily. He can see Tyler smile in his periphery. 

Once situated, Tyler brings a hand under Josh’s right arm and lays it on his stomach, long fingers are teasing the hem of his shirt. Josh simply watches, no protests coming from him, so Tyler continues to slowly pull Josh's shirt up to expose his stomach. Josh suddenly feels vulnerable and whines accordingly but Tyler coos at him quietly. "You're okay, just trust me. You're okay, Josh." This is uncomfortable and weird but as soon as Tyler’s warm palm is rubbing circles on his aching stomach, Josh is sighing in relief. 

It's more than the relief of the pain, it's something instinctively warm that's triggered within him, like cats grooming each other. It's soft, comforting. Josh slips his eyes shut, left hand now clasped with Tyler’s left, the other on the bed as he melts in Tyler’s arms. 

“Poor Joshie,” Tyler says close to his ear, warm breath that makes Josh shudder, “ate too fast and now his tummy hurts.” It's meant to be a joke, teasing, but there's something sweet there that makes Josh peek his eyes open for a brief moment, more heat in his face and confusion settling deep in him.

“I'm assuming this is helping because you look like you're going to fall asleep,” Tyler says with a soft laugh.

“Why are you being so nice?” Josh says. Tyler’s circles on Josh’s stomach get a little slower.

“‘Cause I feel bad.” Tyler is quiet, careful.

“About what?”

Tyler is silent.

“Let's talk,” Tyler suddenly proposes and Josh goes rigid against him. This is what he had been begging for and now he was getting it. It was a lot, maybe too much in this state he was in but Tyler gives a soft shush and continues circling his hand on Josh’s stomach, trying to calm him. Josh tries.

“That night,” Tyler begins, “I just knew something wasn't right when I stepped into that gas station. Something wasn't right with you. I saw you and there was this energy around you that was interesting. It was off but so familiar.”

Josh furrows his eyebrows. Familiar?

“And you weren't wearing any shoes,” Tyler exhales a laugh, “and then you turned around and you were too pretty to be feeling like you were.” 

Tyler grows quiet after this, fingers on Josh’s stomach slowly caressing. It lacks eroticism but maintains a strange caring gesture brimming with what might be adoration. It's strange; Josh doesn't know Tyler. He's a stranger. Mostly.

“How did you know how I was feeling?” Josh asks quietly, staring at Tyler's hand on his stomach. Tyler laughs again. It sounds tired and defeated.

“I knew how you were feeling ‘cause I've felt that way, Josh.”

Tyler’s hand stops on Josh’s stomach. It rests there, a grounding gesture for Josh and a hesitant stillness for Tyler. Tyler’s quiet, uncomfortably so. Josh still can't see his expression behind him but just like Tyler explained this weird phenomenon of just knowing something, Josh knows Tyler’s doubting himself. It's embarrassment, shame, a cascade of shitty feelings. Josh takes his hand from the bed and places it over Tyler’s on his stomach. Tyler is still for a moment but laces their fingers together.

“And then you said,” Tyler’s voice cracks but he continues anyway, acting as if it hadn't happened. Josh squeezes his fingers in support. "You said you were going to kill yourself. Joshua, you said that.” Josh knows what he said. He's not proud of it, but he has nothing to apologize for. He was going to do it. He still may want to after what happened tonight.

“I saw myself in you. But you were...you. You were more than me, I could just tell. I don't know, Josh. You were so ‘something’ that I couldn't let that happen. I-” Tyler swallows and squeezes Josh’s fingers, “I did what I thought was right.”

Josh is quiet.

“What did you do, Tyler?”

Silence.

“Tyler, what did you do?”

Tyler grips Josh harder.

“I...I made you immortal.”

Josh stares at the wall across from them, staring, staring, staring, trying to process it all. It shouldn't be real but he knows what blood tastes like, he's seen someone get killed. It shouldn't have happened but it did. Tyler's changed reality.

“I wanted to kill myself and you made the decision to keep me alive. You made that decision for me.”

“Yes!” Tyler almost sounds relieved, like Josh is thanking him. Josh grits his teeth.

“You made that decision without my consent.” 

“Wh-What?”

“You decided what was best for me, Tyler, and I didn't ask you to. You're a fucking stranger, Tyler. Who the fuck do you think you are to change me into...whatever fucking abomination you changed me into?!”

Josh sits up, releasing their fingers even when Tyler tries to hold on. Josh turns to Tyler, who is staring at him with a look of shock and a hefty film of tears in his eyes.

“Bu-”

“Shut up! You,” Josh can barely see straight, “you thought it was your duty to play the hero and do me a ‘favor’?! Who the fuck do you think you are?! You've fucked me over!"

“Joshua, I saved your life. You were going to take your own life, you said it. I-I couldn't let that happen. Please,” the tears in his eyes look ready to spill over, “please, Josh, come here. Let me hold you, please.”

A part of Josh wants to sink into Tyler’s arms and cry every fear and insecurity of every new and old emotion that is clouding his head. He wants to cry into Tyler’s chest and just have the other man hold him, cradle him, wrap himself around him, but he can't. Josh wants to be away from here. Josh stands and Tyler looks up at him, mouth open and ready to say something.

“Fuck you, Tyler,” Josh spits and Tyler is shaking his head with his arms now outstretched toward him.

“No, no, please, Josh, please just, let me hold you. I can help you, I can help. It's okay to be scared, Joshua. It's a scary situation, but we'll figure it out, okay? Please just come here and calm down, please.” Tyler is begging, the tears finally heavy enough to spill over and down his cheeks.

The last image Josh has of Tyler is watching him cry as he sits on a messy bed, arms outstretched and begging to comfort the other. Then Josh is leaving out into the hall and slamming the front door behind him, storming down the street and trying to figure out how to get back home.

Josh is livid, infuriated, still sad. So sad.

Josh has a string of Christmas lights waiting for him back home. He needs to get home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning everyone: this chapter does deal with some triggering stuff, such as multiple suicide attempts in mild detail. Be careful, everyone.

Josh makes it home. He kicks off Tyler’s shoes as soon as he steps into the shadows of the interior of his house, everything exactly like he left it- empty, dark, depressing. It should be comforting to know his prolonged absence didn't affect anything here, but something about everything being so untouched makes Josh feel even shittier. He's changed so much yet his house remains frozen in time from that night he didn't want to breathe anymore. Everything is too silent, too empty; a depressed person lived here. A depressed person still lives here. 

It may be quiet but the door to the garage down the hall seems to be humming mockingly to him. Josh stands in the darkness of a house that had been his voluntary prison for so long, listening to the call of the door that hides away Christmas lights. Josh is back where he started, he may be worse off because his stomach is full of blood and he feels more alone now that he has a reference of what not being alone is. Josh knows what it’s like to be touched, to be cared for, to be called ‘pretty.’ There are no more fingers stroking him, no more warmth of another person. Josh realizes he may have been starved for touch. That kind of thing happens when not leaving the house for months at a time. 

Tyler cared about Josh. Tyler held him while he slept. Tyler fed him something that Josh didn't know could ever taste so good. Tyler cleaned his mouth and held his hand, rubbed his stomach and made it so Josh couldn't do any harm to himself because Tyler saw something in Josh that Josh didn't. Tyler made Josh immortal.

Josh hates Tyler.

Josh doesn't want to feel anymore and Tyler made that impossible. No. Tyler was wrong. Josh would do it. He won't feel anymore.

The imaginary sound coming from the garage door grows louder as Josh takes a hesitant step forward, even louder as he takes another. Once he’s in front of it, he leans his forehead against the cool wood of the door and it only makes his migraine worse. There’s a coolness and aching on the side of his neck and Josh knows what it is, who did this to him. Tyler made Josh feel again but feeling is overrated; everything hurts. Josh is always in pain in some way; he just wants it to stop. He wants to be okay.

There’s pain behind his eyes from holding in the tears that want to fall and Josh finally opens the door that will take away his pain forever.

|-/

Tyler was right.

Josh is immortal. It takes him ten minutes hanging from the rafters to realize it.

Tyler was right.

Why does Tyler have to be right?

|-/

Josh can still bleed, he can still pass out.

It takes him three, inch deep cuts in his arms to realize it.

Josh's body is still human inside. He can see yellow fat and stringy muscle and blood, so much blood. 

Then everything goes dark and then it’s light again and there’s sticky blood all over the side of his face where he fell over.

Josh can heal quickly because when he blinks awake, he’s disappointed to see his arm looks fine.

|-/

Josh can’t overdose.

It takes him two bottles of painkillers to realize it.

Josh can still vomit.

Half-digested pills come up like oatmeal onto the bed under him and Josh groans at the cramping of his stomach. Tyler isn’t here to rub his stomach.

Josh still hates Tyler. Josh misses Tyler.

It takes him a couple of suicide attempts to realize it.

|-/

“The rafters didn’t break.”

Josh stands on the front step of Tyler’s house, June bugs and mosquito hawks knocking into the walls by his head in an attempt to get to the porch light they so desperately want.

Tyler stares with lifted eyebrows through the few inches he’s cracked open the door and he’s looking Josh up and down for all the damage Josh has implied in that simple line. Josh knows he looks a mess, with or without all the carnage of his body that has since healed over. The only clear sign of his activities of the past three days is the dried vomit on the front of his shirt and the look of exhaustion on his face. He’s only slept when he was knocked out by lack of air or lack of blood or lack of proper pill dosage. 

Tyler doesn’t look all that great either. There are dark bags hanging under the man’s eyes and he looks exhausted with how his form is hunched forward like he’ll collapse at any moment. No sleep is evident on his face from the past three days. Josh feels bad. A little.

Tyler’s eyes meet his and they stare at each other like they can somehow see what the other person’s been up to the past few days in their pupils alone. In Tyler’s eyes, Josh can see the physical and mental exhaustion, something more that makes Tyler’s eyes a little dull.

“I knew they wouldn’t break,” Tyler says. “You’re a skinny guy.”

“Tyler,” Josh says, “I can’t die.”

Silence.

“I can’t die.”

Melancholy drips off of the edges of Tyler’s lips as he barely quirks them up.

“I know. I told you, Josh,” Tyler whispers, fingers digging into the door, “I said you were immortal.”

There are tears in Josh’s eyes, the ones he hadn’t shed for the past few days. He didn’t cry once after all his suicide attempts but here in front of Tyler, he can’t help but let a few run down his cheeks.

“I know.”

Tyler’s face softens and the door fully opens, the warmth and light from within trickling out onto the porch. The insects still stumbling against the wall drift toward the light and Josh drifts with them, taking a step forward through the doorway and into Tyler’s house.

Suddenly there are arms around Josh's shoulders, a hand on the back of his head guiding him to Tyler’s neck. It’s warm and Josh has been so cold lately. So, so cold. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants to tell Tyler all about it because Josh doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Josh doesn’t know what to do after this but he doesn’t worry about it right now. All that matters is Tyler’s arms around him and the warmth. 

The warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad boys, so sad :(
> 
> Next chapter won't be so sad. Promise.


	8. Chapter 8

“Um. These should fit you. If not, just tell me and I'll, uh, try to find...something. Else.”

Tyler places a shirt, boxers and a pair of sweatpants on the bathroom counter clumsily, dropping the boxers on the ground and then dropping the shirt when he bends over to pick them up. Tyler gives no eye contact as he keeps his head down, voice low and words cluttered with uncertainty. 

Since their hug in the doorway ten minutes earlier, Tyler suggested in a small voice that Josh take a shower and wash off all the filth of the past three days off of him. Josh expected hand holding or close proximity as Tyler led him to the bathroom but Tyler keeps his distance and doesn't touch the sensitive man on their way down the hall. 

Josh is about to ask what's wrong, is Tyler scared, what did he do wrong and what can he do to fix it but before Josh can voice his concerns, Tyler is turning halfway out the door, leaving him alone.

“Tyler!” Josh's voice is desperate with fear and anxiety, the silence creeping toward him too much. Tyler stops. "Tyler, stay.”

Tyler's back is still to him and Josh can practically see all his muscles tensing. 

“I need help, Tyler,” Josh says because he does. He doesn't trust himself to be alone; he knows he'll fall victim to those same shitty thoughts that tore him apart the last few days. He needs Tyler. “Just please don't be scared of me. I'm sorry. Stay.”

Tyler turns to him, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Josh,” Tyler says, “don't say sorry. Shit happened and we'll figure it out. And don't think I’m scared of you because I'm not. I'm...just trying to give you space. You need it. After all that's happened.”

“I don't want space, not right now,” Josh says without hesitance. The thoughts are still there, waiting for him to be alone so they can attack him and tear his body apart. It hurts. Josh doesn't want to hurt. “I don't want to be alone right now, Tyler. Please don't let me be alone. Don't leave me alone.”

Josh is still babbling as Tyler takes a stride toward him and he's standing incredibly close, looking up at Josh, hands ghosting along his shoulders like he doesn't know whether or not to touch him. Josh's words stop and they look at each other, both pairs of eyes yearning for something. “Let's get you in the shower, okay?”

“Stay with me,” Josh says and it's his only stipulation. He'll take care of himself but he needs someone there for him, a support, a friend. Josh needs love so he can learn how to care for himself once again. It's a process and he needs help. He needs Tyler. 

Josh leans in a bit closer, lips a millimeter away from Tyler’s forehead. Tyler needs to be closer, closer. Josh can't be alone. These past few days had been terrible, awful; Josh feels as though he's died over and over and he has in a sense. Even though he stands here alive in front of Tyler, Josh feels half-dead. Josh needs Tyler with him now. He needs the one who saw something in Josh that was worth saving. 

Tyler steps back and sheds his shirt revealing a stretch of tan skin and black tattoos and then goes his pants and boxers. Josh stands transfixed. If he thought Tyler was beautiful back at the gas station, Tyler is awe-inspiring in his most natural state. Tyler turns on the hot water and pulls back the shower curtain, waiting for Josh to take off his own clothing and join him. Josh in first; Tyler puts Josh first.

A minute later and both men stand in the tub, warm water cascading over them. Tyler is close again. Josh likes it. Josh takes in Tyler’s presence and he feels safe for the first time in however many days. Tyler is here. 

Josh can see the exhaustion in Tyler’s eyes and Josh is sure Tyler can see the brokenness in his own. The hell they've both been through has nowhere to hide behind clothes as they stand facing each other completely naked, nothing but their true selves in front of each other. No more hiding. Truth. Honesty. Both of them are so vulnerable. 

“Do you still hate me?”

Tyler asks it like he knows the answer is yes, like he's counting on the answer being yes. He's just making sure that his self-loathing is legitimate. Tyler wants a good reason to continue beating himself up. Tyler saved Josh’s life. It should be a joyous thing. Tyler was wrong for once and now he's stuck in a state of clear exhaustion and upset. Josh sucks in a breath, eyes closed.

“I-I tried,” Josh says, “I tried hating you but I can't. You protected me. From myself. And I should thank you for that. I'll get better. I'll try to get better.”

Josh says this and means it, but there's still a look of hesitation on his face that makes Tyler’s doubt linger.

“You still want to hate me,” Tyler states matter of fact. 

The hiss of the shower almost deafens them but the silence they share for a second is clear.

“Yes,” Josh whispers. Tyler looks hurt, still broken.

“...W-Why?”

“Because I'm still in so much pain,” Josh says, “and now I know it'll never go away.”

“You'll get better, Josh,” Tyler says, closer but still not touching.

“Why aren't you touching me?” Josh asks, fed up with Tyler’s sudden absence. He's here in front of Josh but Tyler doesn't touch him and he feels miles away. Josh feels alone. “Why won't you touch me?”

“I don't want to do anything to upset you, Josh,” Tyler says, looking down. He's naked, vulnerable, upset. Tyler looks small. “If you want me to touch you, I'm going to ask your consent.”

Water falls in Josh’s face and Tyler peeks up at him, hair plastered to his forehead and eyelashes clumped together with water. Tyler looks beautiful. Josh needs Tyler here with him, he needs to know Tyler is here.

“Tyler,” Josh says and takes a half-step closer, “please.”

Tyler looks up at him with brown eyes that melt him completely.

“Joshua,” Tyler says, “can I hold you?”

Josh nods. It doesn't work for Tyler.

“I need to know I can hold you. You have to tell me, Josh.”

“Yes, Tyler, you can hold me.”

And Tyler does.

It's like he's been waiting for this as long as Josh. Tyler’s arms are around him again, right hand around his waist and his left hand on the back of Josh’s head to hold him to Tyler’s neck. Josh realizes this is soon becoming his favorite place- Tyler’s neck. Here he can smell Tyler and feel his pulse, all the while hiding in the dark, a good kind of dark because this is warm. Josh sighs a shaky breath and whines.

Tyler is the first to break away with another whine from Josh but he's only gone long enough to ask Josh's permission to wash his hair and Josh gives it to him readily. There are fingers against his scalp and water washing away all the oil and sweat of the past few days and Josh feels lighter.

The water is turned off and Tyler steps out first, grabbing a towel and drying himself off before offering an outstretched hand to Josh. Josh takes it, stepping out of the shower with knees that feel weak from exhaustion, both emotional and physical. He's still recovering. It's going to take a while to fully recover.

“Can I dry you off? And dress you?” Another request for permission comes and Josh says yes.

Tyler wraps a towel around Josh’s shoulders and dries him off with gentle touches that make Josh’s eyes droop. Tyler helps Josh slide on his fresh boxers and sweatpants, then a soft shirt with a band he's never heard printed on the front. It all smells like Tyler and envelops him in a warmth of worn fabric. Josh feels safe.

“Pretty boy,” Tyler says with a smile, looking at him and reaching out a hand to his cheek but stopping himself an inch before contact is made.

“Can I-”

“Tyler. You don't have to ask my permission for every little thing. It's exhausting.” Tyler looks upset at the revelation at first but Josh is sighing with a light smile. “But I appreciate the gesture, Tyler. I really, really do.”

“You’ll tell me to stop if you don't feel comfortable with something I do, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Tyler brings his hand to Josh’s cheek and strokes his skin with a gentle touch. A few seconds pass and Tyler drops his hand so he can lace his and Josh’s fingers together. Tyler is here, holding, protecting. Josh gives Tyler’s a gentle squeeze and Tyler gives a small smile.

They shuffle down the hall to the bedroom a moment later, the same bedroom that Josh spent all that time in when he was changing. He can almost still smell the sweat and fear and pain but Tyler gives his hand an encouraging squeeze and Josh takes a deep breath as they finally make their way to the bed. There's fresh sheets on it though, the only thing that looks fresh in this entire room. Josh appreciates it.

“C’mon,” Tyler says as he pulls back the covers for Josh and Josh slides in, hand still tightly clutching Tyler’s. When Tyler tries to take his hand back, Josh whines before he can save himself from embarrassment. He can't control it; it's instinctual, primal, this desire to keep Tyler close during this time of pain. Josh needs Tyler here, with him. He can't be alone. 

“Hey, hey, relax,” Tyler whispers, “just need to get dressed. I'm right here, Josh. I'm not going anywhere.” Josh is hesitant, but lets go of him. Tyler's right here. He's not going anywhere.

Tyler is beautiful. Josh watches Tyler's back muscles tighten as he bends over to pick up some boxers from the bottom drawer and then his honey-colored torso is hidden by a baggy shirt and Josh whines again at the loss of bare skin from his vision. 

“Shh,” Tyler says as he turns and makes his way over to Josh, totally misinterpreting the reason for Josh's most recent upset. Tyler is beautiful and Josh needs Tyler here with him. 

“You look so snugly,” Tyler smiles at the man with thick blankets pulled up to his chin. As soon as Tyler has slid in next to him, Josh all but jumps into his arms. His head is in Tyler's neck already, arms around his torso and legs tangled with Tyler's in a tight knot. Josh can feel Tyler laugh lightly into his hair and it feels beautiful. 

“Precious boy,” Tyler coos as he rubs his hand up and down Josh’s back. “You're okay. You'll get better, Josh.”

Josh has no other choice than to get better. Tyler made that choice for him but Josh doesn't feel as sour about it as he did. It still hurts, but he wants to feel better. Josh wants to try to live again. He's been dead for so long and he wants to learn how to be alive.

“It'll take awhile,” Josh says. It's a warning to Tyler that the process will be a long and arduous one and that if he wants out, now is the time to do it. But Tyler doesn't leave. He tightens his arms around Josh and rests his lips against the man’s temple.

“That's fine,” Tyler says. “Take as long as you need. That's absolutely fine.”

Josh wants to be fine. He's ready to learn how to be fine.

Josh takes a deep breath against Tyler’s neck and hums at the scent of cheap body wash and cigarettes. It's good. It's Tyler. 

Josh inhales a shuttered breath against Tyler's pulse and Tyler holds him tighter. Josh is ready to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I made good on my promise? Not too sad? Also, sorry for the really shitty writing. I'm half asleep so I'm very writing impaired right now, sorry. More vampire stuff next chapter, though.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this scene in my head, so vampire stuff will come next chapter. Thanks!

Nightmares come. He's stupid for thinking that they wouldn't.

Josh writhes under the hot sheets, images of darkness and blood and demons eating him. They come from cracks in his head and descend on him with teeth like needles and eyes of red.

Sweat across his aching body, he's held captive in his mind by monsters he has created. They have tails like rope that shimmer with specks of glass that glisten like tiny bulbs of white light. Claws of razor blades dig into him down to the bone and boiling saliva heavy with poison drip into the gashes they've torn in him. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurt, it hurts-

“Josh. Josh.”

His name is called and the demons retreat, sinking through the floor. It's still dark when he opens his eyes finally, eyelashes clumped together with tears. He was crying. He doesn't care. There's still acute pain blanketing his entire body, making it hard to move. All psychosomatic, he knows, but the fact that it's all in his head doesn't help the storm in his stomach or the fire in his joints.

“Josh, you okay?”

Tyler is propped up on his elbow beside him, looking down at him in the dark with genuine concern etched in his face. Josh looks up at him, lips trembling, heart beating with a throbbing pain. His breath hurts and Tyler looks at him like he believes how much he hurts.

“Josh, what's wrong?”

The thoughts of worthlessness are still there within him and he can feel it especially now that Tyler is looking at him like that. Josh feels as though he doesn't deserve the compassion and then comes the memories of the past three days to add to his growing anxiety. Those are his real nightmares, not some kind of monster drenched in shadow. He has real problems that exist and won't sink through the floor. The hideousness of the immediate past haunts Josh.

“Hurts…” Josh whimpers.

“What hurts?”

“Everything,” Josh gasps out a breath, “everything.”

Tyler’s face softens considerably and he mutters, “Can I touch you?” and Josh is whining out, “Yes.”

Tyler slides up, no longer on his elbow but on his knees. He's above Josh, looking down at him. A hand rests on his cheek but Josh is unsatisfied. The pain is still there; the half-assed touch does nothing to soothe him. He feels like he's still consumed by black, stalked by creatures he has created. Their in the corners of the room, waiting to attack him. Tyler takes back his hand and it was so useless, Josh doesn't even notice.

“Show me where you hurt,” Tyler says. When Josh groans in growing discomfort and upset, Tyler comes closer, placing a knee on the other side of Josh’s waist so he's straddling him. Josh looks at him, lips parted and eyes uncertain, pain still wracking him. “Show me where you hurt, Joshua.”

“My neck,” Josh whispers with barely a shift of his lips.

“Tell me,” Tyler says as he leans over Josh, hands bracketing Josh’s head keeping him up. Tyler leans in and waits for Josh’s explanation with his lips ghosting along his neck millimeters away. 

“I-It was so tight. Cold. I tied the wires so tight, a few of the light bulbs broke against my neck and there was glass and it hurt, it hurt me,” Josh rambles as he relives the horrid sensation by just thinking about it. It hurts. “It hurts.”

Josh’s breath stutters when Tyler finally plants his lips against his jugular. It's gentle, so, so gentle. Like a rose petal resting on his skin, it's a soft caress that holds so much care and adoration, it's as if Tyler is trying to mend the hurt under the skin with the softest touch. Josh squeezes his eyes shut, breath quickening, heart beating faster, all that he’s feeling coming in intensely. There's still pain, but it wanes under Tyler.

“I couldn't breathe,” Josh says. “Everything was numb, it was so numb. I've been so numb, Tyler, please, I was numb for so long.” Josh doesn't know what he's saying but he feels it's the truth. He has been numb.

“Shh…” Tyler's hands are in his hair and Tyler is pressing another kiss on the scarred bite mark on the side of Josh’s neck. Josh hiccups a choked breath.

“Where else, Joshua?” Tyler mutters against his neck. “Tell me where else, baby.” 

“M-My arms. Three times. Deep. I could see inside of myself. Yellow. Red. There was blood, I-I bleed, I still have blood, I'm- I don't know, I don't-.”

“Breathe,” Tyler whispers to him, “breathe, Josh.” 

Josh tries.

Tyler cradles Josh’s left arm first and drags soft kisses from his elbow to his wrist, then pressing a kiss to his palm. Tyler does the same with the right. Josh can't see inside anymore, but he can feel the warmth of Tyler’s lips drip all the way to his bones as if he's still carved up. It hurts different.

“My stomach, Tyler. The pills, a lot of pills. My stomach hurt so bad. It had to be internal bleeding or something, Tyler, it hurt, please, make it better, please, help,” Josh doesn't know exactly what he's begging for but he knows Tyler will take care of him.

“I know, Joshie, I know. I'll make it better, baby, I promise.”

Tyler nods his cheek against Josh’s palm and hunches over Josh’s stomach, placing his hands on his waist, barely holding and nothing more. Tyler’s breath fans across Josh’s stomach and he comes closer and presses his lips against the tight skin there with a graze of soft lips.

“It still hurts, Tyler,” Josh says. It's the truth. His stomach, everything, still hurts because learning to feel again hurts. Like freezing toes under hot water, the sensation of feeling again is like splinters under his skin. Under Tyler’s lips, his skin feels blistered.

Tyler kisses open mouthed against his stomach once before sliding back up his body and kissing his forehead. It's Tyler’s order to Josh’s thoughts to quiet, all those demons to go back to Hell and leave this boy alone.

Tyler slides off of him and lays down beside him, bringing Josh’s head to his neck again. Tyler strokes his bleach-damaged hair and shushes him with breath that smells of sleep and tobacco.

“I don't want to hurt anymore,” Josh murmurs brokenly against Tyler’s jugular that throbs against his bottom lip. His eyelashes are still wet and his lips are chapped but Tyler holds him close and doesn't mention the way his dry lips scratch his skin.

“It’s okay to hurt,” Tyler says. “Accept the pain and you’ll have authority over it. Work through it, not against it.”

Josh is scared. He doesn't want to hurt.

“I'm scared.”

“I'm right here, Josh. I'll be right here to help you. Just try. Accept it.”

And Josh does. 

He closes his eyes and begins to accept the pain. Face the demons, not look down and hope they leave. Josh looks into the dark and tries to understand, rationalize, gather himself and map out every shadow so he’ll never be taken off guard again. Here against Tyler’s throat with his eyes closed and Tyler’s kisses burning on his skin, Josh looks into the dark red eyes of the death that tried to take him. This is not fighting. This is accepting the truth.

Fighting emotion hurt more than accepting it; holding back tears was torture when sobbing felt euphoric. Holding back anger hurt worse than throwing a fist into a brick wall. Pretending to be okay was unbearable when curling up in someone’s arms, vulnerable. Josh is tired of hiding.

Tyler’s right. Accept it. Work through it.

Tyler’s right because he feels the same.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated. I haven't forgotten about this story. It's still my favorite. I don't abandon things that are my favorite.

An empty bed is such a fucked up thing to wake up to.

Cold sheets and pillows emitting the ghost scent of someone who was there but is no longer. Josh grunts against the scratchy fabric that smells of something musky and something that should be disgusting but isn’t.

Josh pushes himself up from the bed and looks around the room in a daze, feeling incredibly slow and heartbroken for some unknown reason. The walls look a little darker, the room just a little messier, everything a little quieter. Josh stands on weak legs and moves out of the room through a small house that is not his.

He stalks down the hallway like a predator, using the shadows for cover. The sleep is already gone from his eyes as he rounds a corner that leads to the living room. The familiar smell of mutating cells caused by a mysterious concoction of tobacco meets him. Faced with the back of the sofa, Josh can see wisps of white smoke rise from someone sitting just out of sight.

An invisible rope connected to the front of his chest to the source of that smoke pulls Josh forward.

Bare feet scoot across the filthy beige carpet. The television plays some movie in black and white. Men in cowboy hats race on horses through a barren landscape, guns popping in their hands. Josh comes around the side of the sofa.

Tyler looks up at him, a cigarette in his left hand.

“You’re up,” Tyler says. He smiles with crooked teeth peeking from in between those soft lips that nursed feeling back into Josh’s body.

Josh wants to say something about how terrible he feels when Tyler isn’t there beside him. He wants to say something about, if it’s possible, to not leave him alone in a bed because when he is, Josh can feel something deadly creeping inside of him. Josh wants to say these things, but he doesn’t because he knows he's sound like a fucking loser that’s too clingy.

Tyler can read his expression because he gives a slight frown and pats the space on the sofa beside him. 

“Come sit, Josh,” he says.

Josh come sits.

It already feels good to be beside Tyler again. He leans in a little closer to him and sinks a little further into the couch, still not speaking a word. For some reason he feels a little weird like he couldn’t say anything if he wanted to because there’s not point. He wants to do things but he can't at the moment.

Josh feels weak.

“Hey,” Tyler says gently. He sits up a little and Josh whines weakly at the loss of a body directly beside him, Tyler’s more specifically.

Tyler extends a hand and places it under his chin, forcing Josh’s wayward gaze straight to his. He turns Josh’s this way and that and looks him straight on before moving his hand to the side of his neck right over the scar in the shape of a bite there. Josh whimpers when Tyler grazes it with his fingertips.

“I’ve got you, Josh,” Tyler says. “I know what you need. Just stay here.”

He stands and Josh tries to reach out for him, but doesn’t because he cares, but he doesn’t. He’s living a contradiction of every little movement he commits and he can’t decipher it. Everything is getting confusing. Josh feels like he’s somewhere else and Tyler isn’t here on the couch with him and he just really needs Tyler.

Tyler comes back. 

He stands in front of Josh, cigarette in his mouth and a popsicle in his hand.

“Here,” Tyler says as he holds out the frozen treat. It takes great effort for Josh to take it.

The man looks it over, confused and suspicious and not really sure if he’s even hungry. He kind of wants to just cuddle and sleep some more but he knows that most likely won’t happen because he’s too shy of a loser to admit it. Josh is beating himself up in his head. He just can’t stop. Everything is so sensitive.

“Hey, hey,” Tyler coos. He takes Josh’s hand, the one holding the popsicle, and gently pushes it to his mouth, centimeters from his chapped lips. “You need to eat and this will help you eat slower. Just trust me.”

Josh cautiously sucks the red ice into his mouth.

Immediately, a flood of flavor coats his tongue. Fire against ice, saliva pools under his tongue and almost spills from him if it wasn’t for his hearty slurping creating a vacuum in his mouth.

Josh chomps at the ice and swallows with the desperation of realizing that this is what he needs. It’s delicious, even if it is slightly duller considering it isn’t as warm as he remembered it being. It tastes so good, too good, and the emptiness in his stomach is barely filled as he finished the popsicle.

With newfound energy, Josh stands from the couch directly in front of Tyler and looks past him to the kitchen where he knows more will be. He needs more, more.

“More,” Josh breathes, “more.” Josh tries to move to the kitchen but Tyler is already in front of him, hands on his biceps holding him steady. Josh looks down, eyes wide, desperate.

“Take it easy,” Tyler says around his cigarette. “Let's sit down and relax.”

“No,” Josh says. He tries to take another step but Tyler straightens his posture and squeezes his arms as some kind of reminder. “Tyler, I need more. Hungry.”

“Sit,” Tyler says, unmoving and a little stern, “and I’ll get you more.”

Josh sits.

Tyler brings him more.

Josh chomps away at another popsicle and then another. He tries to finish his fourth popsicle but he starts to get full and high on the taste, feeling like he hit a blunt God Himself rolled. Tyler takes his half eaten popsicle from his hand and sucks it into his own mouth, humming at the taste.

Josh squirms at the sound.

Josh chews on the popsicle stick left over after his third popsicle and sucks any remaining blood out of the wood stick as he watches Tyler finish up his own.

“Where did you get the blood?” Josh asks quietly. Tyler quirks an eyebrow, tongue running along the wet side of the popsicle stick.

“Why does that matter?” Tyler says. He puts down the stick and puts back his cigarette. He releases a breath of smoke directly in Josh’s face. Josh doesn’t move. If anything, he’s drawn to it.

“You're gonna eat it anyway,” Tyler says. “Doesn't matter where it came from.”

Josh knows this is true. 

“How are you feeling?” Tyler says. He sits back down next to Josh who doesn’t hesitate to lay his head on Tyler’s shoulder. He’s still flying high. Tyler’s fingers in his hair feel like heaven.

“I don’t like waking up alone,” Josh says.

“I know,” Tyler says like he understands, like he suffers from the same affliction that is ‘Loneliness.’

Josh watches the television that blurs white and black with the bliss that’s buzzing from behind his eyes deep in his head.

It’s delicious.

Tyler takes the cigarette from his mouth and brings it down to Josh’s mouth, holding it against his lips for him.

Josh doesn’t smoke but he sucks the cigarette in between his lips and takes a deep drag that itches the bottom of his lungs. He holds it for a moment until his head gets a little lighter and then exhales a flow of white smoke that looks like a horizontal waterfall, the taste of something wonderful and slightly disgusting stuck on his tongue. 

It’s delicious.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get to it, I really want to thank marsakat, spookyjimish and Dodi. 
> 
> I appreciate all and every comment I get on this story and all of my stories but these three have been interacting with it for so long, especially marsakat and spookyjimish- you've been here since the beginning! 
> 
> I appreciate you all so much and I want to thank you for staying with me. I'm glad you're enjoying my stuff- it means more than you know.
> 
> Okay, enough of that sappy shit- let's get to it! Enjoy!

“We need to get you some clothes.”

Josh looks at Tyler in the mirror from where he's sitting on the lip of the bathtub. Tyler's shaving his face and something about the bristling sound of the razor cutting through the short hair that dots his jaw is pleasing to Josh. 

Almost everything Tyler does gets to Josh in some way.

When Josh tells Tyler that the sound makes his head warm, Tyler brings out his phone and loads up a YouTube video and gives it to him to watch. Josh watches a short video titled 'ASMR' but he focuses more on the blood dried to the edge of the screen.

Josh ends up scratching it off with his fingernail and sucking it between his lips as the video ends. His head feels warmer, that tickling feeling along his scalp amplified. The faint taste of blood from under his fingernail doesn't help.

Now Josh sits on the edge of the tub and watches Tyler with a surprising amount of focus as if even the mundane of his everyday life is captivating.

It kind of scares Josh that he's so attached.

Tyler looks at him through the mirror.

“You've been wearing those clothes for a while and I only have so much for you to wear,” Tyler says. 

Tyler drags the blade down the curve of his throat.

The back of Josh’s neck prickles with the sound.

“You're way too buff, Josh,” Tyler muses with a smile. “Most of my stuff’ll be way too tight. Might have to go shirtless.”

The comment makes heat rush up to his face, makes him look down, makes him wonder what this is, what they're doing. 

Josh wants a label.

Tyler seems like the type of person to destroy every label known to man.

“We can-” Tyler pauses as he runs the razor under the running water to clean the hair from it. “We can go by yours. Pick up some of your clothes.”

Josh slides his feet against the fluffy bath mat beside the tub that looks to be home to legions of bacteria and disease. Josh wants to ask what they are to each other. He doesn't know what this means for them. 

But the bath mat soft between his toes and that's all that matters.

“Later,” Josh says as he finally looks up. “Tomorrow.”

Tyler’s reflection smiles at him.

Josh smiles back.

The phone forgotten in Josh’s lap buzzes.

He looks down to read the notification of an amber alert. Josh thinks of how terrible that must be to lose a child as clicks the home button to Tyler’s phone. Josh thinks his parents probably wouldn't have cared if he got kidnapped as a kid.

“What's your passcode?” Josh asks.

“4-0-2-0-0.”

Josh hums with a furrowed brow.

“What?” Tyler asks.

“Not your birthday,” Josh says with a quick glance up at him.

Tyler hums.

“Not exactly.”

Josh goes through his apps. Nothing much.

PayPal, Tumblr, some Spanish learning apps.

Josh clicks on the apps that are familiar, all the ones that can be found on the first page.

Josh scrolls through the weather. Hot.

Josh scrolls through missed calls of people he does not know. Seeing so many contacts makes him feel alone.

Josh scrolls through the news. Nothing special- crime, crime, crime.

Josh narrows his eyes.

'Man Found Dead Behind Strip Mall, Police Have Leads'

Josh's heartbeat quickens as he opens the article.

Josh scans over the information he already know like where the strip mall is located and who the victim was- a middle aged man who was presumably there for drugs, as he had history of being an addict. 

Josh scans over information he did not know like how the police are almost positive that this murder is one in line with the other serial murders of runaways, the homeless, drug addicts and sex workers that have been happening much too frequently.

Josh closes all the open apps and turns Tyler’s phone off. He returns his attention to that beautiful reflection as he tries to calm his anxious heartbeat.

“Snooping?” Tyler says.

Josh shakes his head. Even in the reflection, his lie is clear.

Tyler’s not even looking at the way he's dragging the razor down the length of his neck as he stares at Josh through the mirror. He gives a warm smile and tries to mimic the pathetic way Josh shook his head. 

It should be a light tease but ends with a gasp and pained his from Tyler that makes Josh perk up.

Tyler holds the razor out from him. Josh can see it drip beads of red against the white of the sink. The color makes his mouth water and his fingers tighten on the edge of the tub.

“Fuck me,” Tyler hisses as he brings his fingers up to the side of his neck where blood wets his fingers from the cut in his flesh.

Tyler cranes his neck and Josh can almost see it magnified, the way the cut opens just a little bit, summoning a thin trickle of blood to drop down the side of his neck.

Josh stands from the tub.

Tyler’s eyes follow the action.

“Josh,” Tyler says. It sounds like a warning, stern. 

Josh can't take his eyes from the line of red extending to the bottom of Tyler’s neck.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Tyler says with a smile, “but our blood’s no good. After you change, your blood changes too ‘cause life sucks like that.”

Tyler draws his finger up his neck, gathering the blood onto the pad of his finger. He brings it to his mouth and sucks on it before scrunching up his face and sticking his tongue out with a sour expression.

“See?” Tyler says as he turns his back to the mirror so he can look at Josh straight on. “Gross.”

Josh steps closer as if he didn't hear him. He kind of didn't; it's starting to get hard to focus on anything else other than the heady scent that gathers in his sinuses and drips down to the back of his throat to the back of his tongue.

Tyler leans against the bathroom counter, eyelids going heavy as soon as Josh is in his personal space, foreheads together and parted lips hovering millimeters from each other.

“Go for it if you want,” Tyler smiles devilishly, eyes still hooded and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “You're gonna be disappointed.”

Josh takes the challenge.

He rolls his head against the silk of Tyler’s freshly shaved jaw and and his bends lower so he can get access to the cut just under Tyler’s jaw. Josh plants a hot kiss beside the wound and Tyler’s hands find something to hold onto as they twist in Josh’s three day old shirt.

“Bad,” Tyler hisses playfully with a quick nip at the top of Josh’s ear that's accessible to him when Josh’s neck is craned downward. “Being mean...g-getting me all...worked up. Teasing me, Joshua.”

Josh smiles against his skin and finally drifts to the line of red that is weeping with thin ruby liquid. It doesn't make sense how something so aromatic and beautiful would taste terrible but Josh prepares himself for disappointment as he extends the tip of his tongue to touch it.

His disappointment is unwarranted.

Tyler is delicious. He’s bliss, he tastes like Heaven, liquid gold. His blood feels thick on Josh’s tongue as he drags the flat of his tongue across the wound.

Josh whines and tries to get incredibly closer.

“You're gross,” Tyler says with a hand balled up in the back of his shirt. “How are you not sick yet?”

Josh continues to mouth at Tyler’s neck.

Tyler whines this time.

“Good,” Josh slurs. Blood smears on his lips and chin. “So good, Tyler. You're so good.”

Tyler pants against his ear, hot and delicious.

“Does it really taste good?” Tyler says. Josh growls and Tyler bites the shell of his ear for good measure.

“Perfect,” Josh moans against him.

It's the best thing he's ever tasted. Blood may be good but Tyler’s is unparalleled. It exceeds what he thought blood could be and his whole body feels like it's on fire.

Josh rolls his hips against Tyler’s without a thought.

“Oh fuck, Josh,” Tyler hisses.

Josh can feel the firmness in their pants. He lets his instincts take over and rolls his hips forward. 

“Bedroom,” Tyler says. Josh mouths against his neck and doesn't stop grinding their crotches together. “Joshua, don't fuck me on the bathroom counter.”

Josh pulls back, still in a haze of absolute pleasure of what is in front of him and what he can taste on his tongue.

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asks stupidly. “Fucking?”

Tyler gives a small shrug and looks to the side, panting hot breath past his plump, parted lips.

Tyler's eyes are hooded and his cheeks are flushed, hair mussed with blood trickling down the side of his neck.

He's sex.

“If you want to,” Tyler says and Josh feels like he's about to fall apart in front of him, down on his knees, anything Tyler wants. 

Josh catches a look at himself in the mirror directly behind Tyler. His pupils are blown and the blood on his lips glistens darkly. 

Josh drools as he nods.

“Yes,” Josh says against Tyler’s lips. He can't stop saying it even as he ducks back into Tyler’s neck and laps at the blood there. He keeps repeating it against Tyler’s neck as he gathers him up in his arms and moves blindly out of the bathroom and down the hall to Tyler’s bedroom.

All that matters right now is Tyler moaning in his arms.

The phone with that worrying news article left in the bathroom does not matter right now.

Josh’s heartbeat quickens for so many reasons but the taste of blood on his tongue and the boy under him writhing atop the bed are the perfect distractions. 

Tyler moans as he arches up into the body hunched over him, begging and being beautifully impatient for Josh to take care of him.

They can worry about the cops and “serial murders” later.

Right now, Tyler matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting near the end, friends. I'm thinking maybe one or two more chapters.
> 
> And idk if you want to follow me on Tumblr but if you got any questions or prompts or anything, I'm making a Tumblr just for fanfic and stuff. 
> 
> Interact with me on Tumblr at: marasamoon
> 
> Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12

The weeds in the yard are overgrown, the flowers on the patio dead, the bushes on either side of the door untrimmed.

Josh’s absence actually had an effect and for some reason, Josh finds himself smiling at the messy state of his home.

Tyler is close behind him, a grounding hand on his waist as Josh struggles to unlock the door. He said he wanted to come in, to help, and Josh thinks by by ‘help,’ Tyler means emotional support. He doesn't have to say it. Josh appreciates it.

Key in, wiggle, pull up and then down, then push as hard as he could. Josh is reminded of just how much of a shit hole this place was. He hasn't missed it.

Inside, it's dark.

The curtains are drawn and the blinds are shut. No light enters, nothing has changed. The pill bottle from that night is still on the kitchen counter as they pass the kitchen. Down the hall, the shadows in the bathroom to his right hide puddles of dried blood still on the floor. He gets a whiff of vomit as they pass the open door of the laundry room.

Inside his bedroom, they stand of piles of clothes on the floor. Josh thinks he should feel embarrassed about the state of everything but he can't bring himself to care. He feels like Tyler accepts him no matter what. He doesn't have to worry around Tyler. Josh is beginning to understand that now.

“Don't go in the bathroom,” Josh says anyway because there are still things he doesn't want to talk about. Getting better is a process, a slow one, and Tyler doesn't ask for an explanation because he understands that. Tyler only nods.

Josh sits on the end of the bed as Tyler scans the room. There's not much considering Josh never put up posters or pictures, but Tyler is instead taken with the crowded bookshelf, the small table holding a dream journal, the dresser decorated with the sparse pieces of his past.

Josh feels exposed, vulnerable.

Josh trusts Tyler.

“Look,” Tyler says, gentle smile on his face. His finger runs along a plastic soccer trophy, fingernail catching on the raised writing that reads, ‘4th Grade Division.’

“Participation trophy,” Josh says. He leans back on the bed, looking at the stucco ceiling. “Nothing special.”

Tyler hums.

“But it is,” Tyler whispers. “You are.”

Tyler finally turns and glides over to him. Josh is still as Tyler slides onto the bed beside him. He gets close, but not too close, leaving enough space between them to be there if Josh needs him. Together, they stare at the ceiling.

“Fuck participation trophies,” Josh says.

“Fuck ‘em,” Tyler says.

Josh reaches for Tyler's hand because he need him. Tyler tangles their fingers together.

They both smile.

The ever present anxiety in Josh’s mind once again takes his attention, ripping him away from the sweet smile of the man beside him as he instead is faced with reality of their situation. They can only ignore it for so long and seeing their hands together makes Josh dwell on it because he somehow doesn't want this to end.

“Tyler,” Josh says. A thumb rubs over his knuckles. “They're looking for us. The police. The news says they have leads on who's been killing people in the area.”

Tyler sighs through his nose. It goes quiet for a minute or two, just breath between them as they look above them. It goes so quiet, Josh wonders if he said it aloud at all. Tyler looks contemplative, content. He's staring at the ceiling like he can see space.

“When I was changed,” Tyler says, “I was...terrified.”

A pause and then Josh squeezes Tyler’s hand.

“And I remember not knowing what happened when I woke up but just knowing something was different about me. I felt like a stranger to myself,” Tyler whispers. The quiet smacking of his lips as he talks makes Josh’s head buzz. Josh scoots a little closer, temple barely touching Tyler’s shoulder.

“Whoever changed me wasn't there when I woke up,” Tyler says, “and I felt weird for the longest time. Like, lost.” Tyler chuckles mirthlessly. “And I still feel weird and lost. I think I'm perpetually messed up because I didn't have anyone at that time, y’know. I was just so sick.”

Tyler sighs through his mouth.

“You,” Tyler says, “you don't make me feel so sick. I'm so glad I met you, Joshua.”

Josh turns his head. Tyler’s profile is strong, a dust of stubble over his jaw completely alluring. Josh takes his right hand and runs the back of his finger over the cat’s tongue texture. Tyler’s eyes close.

“You don't make me feel so sick,” Josh repeats because he finds it's true for him too.

Tyler turns to him.

Slowly, their lips come together, so gentle and nurturing, like they're trying to heal the hurt within the other through lips and tiny licks alone. They separate but they can't take their eyes from each other. It's just them, immortal and fucked up. 

“I'm sorry,” Tyler says.

“For what?”

Tyler smiles, running a hand through the strands of colored hair on the side of Josh’s head.

“Pretty boy,” Tyler murmurs with a smile, “so beautiful.”

And Tyler leaves it at that, apology still hanging in the air.

It seems like the end. Why does this feel like the end?

The way Tyler's speaking and touching him feels like this is it for them, like everything will fade to black soon and they'll not be together anymore. ‘Together’- Josh thinks that's such a strange word because he doesn't know what they are to each other, yet they still stick together. Together.

But Tyler is acting like he’ll dissipate into smoke soon enough, like the credits will roll soon and he'll be gone without explanation. Josh tightens his grip on Tyler’s hand almost too tightly, a silent reprimand to stop acting like this, whatever this is. Stop being so sentimental, stop saying goodbye. They'll stick together because they need each other in their own ways.

Don't make me be alone, Josh wants to say. 

All he can do is swallow panic and sorrow and hold tight to Tyler’s hand.

“You'll be okay, Josh,” Tyler says.

“Nothing's keeping me here,” Josh says suddenly. It's like he forgot that nothing is here for him, like he didn't hate this shit hole.

“What?” Tyler murmurs.

“This house, this town, this state,” Josh says, “I have no reason to stay here.”

Tyler stares for what seems to be forever and then sits up on the bed, looking down at Josh.

“But you didn't do anything, Josh,” Tyler says. “They'll arrest me. They don't have anything on you. You’d be fine.”

Josh sits up, tugging Tyler’s hand closer to him and ignoring the stupid shit coming from Tyler’s mouth.

“What's keeping you here?” Josh asks.

Tyler is hesitant, looking around the room before looking at Josh.

“Do you really want to do this?” Tyler asks.

And Josh wants to say, he'd do anything, as long as Tyler was beside him. 

“Yes,” Josh says, “I'm sure.”

Then they're up from the bed, he and Tyler hurrying around the room as they throw clothes into a duffle bag fetched from under the bed. Pajamas, shirts, jeans, shoes- all of it finds a place in the bag that holds Josh’s past and new beginning.

Even his soccer participation trophy finds a place between his tank tops and hoodie and Josh smiles and kisses Tyler’s stubble as he passes by him on the way to the bookshelf.

It only takes a few minutes to save everything that deserves to be saved- poetry, art, CDs.

“We got everything?” Tyler asks.

Josh looks around the room. It's still dark, a little more empty, the pain and sadness of his past still hanging heavy in the air.

“Yeah,” Josh says. He takes a step backwards toward the door. “Fuck it.”

Josh doesn't bother locking the front door behind them as they leave the house and slip into the car. Josh throws his bag in the back seat as the engine hums to life. They stay stalled in the driveway, Tyler's hands in his lap and Josh looking inquisitively at him.

“You sure?” Tyler says.

Tyler looks cautious, needs to be sure. It looks like he's waiting for Josh to say forget it, let them bide their time until the police bring down their door and take them away for all eternity. 

But for once, Josh has has fire in him, a will to fight because after all of this, he knows he’s stronger than what was originally thought.

“I'm ready, Tyler.”

Then a smile creeps onto Tyler’s face, crooked teeth visible as he reaches into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

He lights a cigarette and places it in between his lips, reaching over to the passenger side. He opens up the dash and retrieves a pair of black sunglasses from beside the insurance and plethora of fast food napkins. With a smile, Tyler promptly turns them around and slips them onto Josh’s face.

Josh too takes the white pair from the dash that he sees tucked at the bottom and places them on Tyler’s face. Tyler looks like a rockstar with the huge goggles on and on the reflection of Tyler’s lenses, Josh thinks he doesn't look so bad either. Shielded and ready to go, together, they're a fucking pair.

“Let's go, baby,” Tyler says around the cigarette in his mouth, smiling mischievously, looking light, happy, wonderful. They pull out of the driveway away from the closed garage hiding Christmas lights.

The car speeds down the road, leaving the shitty past behind, everything that was familiar. No more dark rooms, being alone, stewing in pain. Tyler’s beside him, smiling like a madman and Josh can't help but smile too.

Josh thinks they'll be okay. Sure, they'll be running for a while but Josh couldn't think of anyone better to run with than Tyler.

A hand finds his knee. Josh places his hand over Tyler’s.

Tyler smiles, their fingers squeeze, Josh lays back and looks out the window to the painful past being left behind.

Josh doesn't feel so sick anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading this story and sticking with me through it. I got some more fic coming, but maybe down the road, I can revisit these weirdos if that's what you all want.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again. I hope you enjoyed the ride :)


End file.
